Paul Cook - Brother of the Dragon

“Who are you?” the stranger said sharply. It was a woman’s voice.

“Just a wanderer, passing by.”

“What are you doing to my beasts?” demanded the woman. “You’re one of those raiders, aren’t you?”

“No! I’m just a plainsman. I escaped the raiders myself not long ago.” Beramun advanced a few steps, only to have the sharp end of a herding stick presented to her chin. Beramun slowly held her arms out from her sides. “I mean no harm,” she insisted.

“Let me see your face!”

Beramun backed away from the shadows until starlight fell full upon her. This placed her closer to the oxen, and they grew restless again, bawling and milling about.

“Where are you bound?” the herder asked.

“The village of Yala-tene. Do you know it?”

“Everyone knows it.” The woman’s eyes narrowed with suspicion. “You don’t look like a villager.”

“I’m not. I go to warn them about the raiders. They’re coming to attack the village.”

The oxen grew more and more distressed. Hemmed in by the closely growing laurels behind them, they splashed into the river, working their way through the shallows, away from the young woman on the riverbank. The herder backed away with her animals. “How do you know what the raiders do?”

“I told you, I was their prisoner.”

“Maybe you’re their scout!”

“No!” Beramun shouted, stamping her foot in frustration. At this the frightened oxen gave way completely. They were only fourteen strong, but they stampeded right at the lone herder. The woman let out a yell and dropped her stick, fleeing ahead of the churning beasts. Horrified, Beramun rushed to help. The oxen put on a frenzied burst of speed at her approach, as if the green dragon himself were after them. The herder yelling and the animals bawling, they disappeared around a bend in the river.

Cursing the stupidity of oxen, Beramun went back to the tree where she’d first met the herder. She found the woman’s hide cape and provisions bag. The bag held an apple, a few dried mushrooms, and a hunk of smoked fish. Beramun devoured the food greedily.

After she’d eaten, she drank deeply of the cool river water, then washed the mud and filth from her face. When she tugged her torn shift out of the way to douse her neck, she saw a dark blot on her chest. She peered at the strange mark. It was smooth, almost shiny when the river water ran off it. It wasn’t sore, and it felt no different than the rest of her skin. She had no recollection of how she got the strange mark. A bruise perhaps, or a bite from some virulent forest insect? Since it wasn’t painful, she paid it no more mind.

Beramun rolled the hide cape and tied it in a bundle on her back with a leather thong, then slipped into the water. The river was wide and the current modest, so she made good progress. Halfway across, she heard a thin, distant shriek from the shore behind her. Treading water, she looked back. The western horizon was alive with an orange glow, like an enormous grass fire. Huge shadows moved against the flickering backdrop of flame. A sudden flash of memory came over her. Her family’s tents burning in the night, the screams of her kinfolk, and the excited shouts of the raiders mingling in a horrible din.

Fear raked her like a knife in her stomach. Turning away, Beramun swam hard, slapping the water in her haste to get across. She dragged herself out and collapsed in the gray mud, breathing hard. She raised her head and saw the firelight on the horizon was gone. Only starlight remained.

Tiphan spent a full day collecting samples of the spirit stones. When darkness came, he returned to camp laden with the stone chips, uncharacteristically beaming.

Mara had remained in camp with Elu. Since Penzar had vanished into his stone tomb, she could not bear to go near the monoliths. She bore Tiphan’s indifference in silence for two days, but as he sat, sorting the rock chips by size and color and placing them in hide bags, she decided she’d finally had enough.

“Tosen,” she said. “We must leave here.”

“We will leave when I’m done,” he said firmly.

“No! Tonight! This place is cursed!”

“Nonsense, girl. The stones attack only when they’re struck by metal. I’ve chipped off scores of samples with the stone hammer we brought from Yala-tene, and I’ve suffered no ill effects at all.”

“Then what about the elves? Won’t they be returning to find out what happened to their fellows?”

“How should I know? Shall I abandon this great find to a threat that may never appear?”

“Yes!”

He put down an angular gray nugget. “You disappoint me, Mara. Where is your faith? We’re in this wondrous place on the dragon’s business, trying to bring power and glory to our village, and you want to abandon it all?”

She didn’t want to weep again, but the tears started anyway. “I was thinking of Penzar,” she whispered brokenly.

“Penzar was a good lad. I’m sorry he was lost,” Tiphan said with some feeling. His blue eyes narrowed. “He was also loyal and obedient. Will you dishonor his memory?”

As Mara stared back at the man who’d dominated her days and a goodly portion of her nightly dreams over the years, a strong new emotion flared in her breast. Disgust. In spite of his words, she saw no remorse in Tiphan. How could she ever have thought she was in love with him? He cared nothing for her, nothing for Penzar. They were simply tools, beasts of burden like the selfless centaur he called a savage.

She shivered suddenly. “I’m going home tomorrow,” she stated flatly. “Without you, if I must.”

“I won’t permit it!” Tiphan retorted. “It isn’t safe for you to travel the plains by yourself.”

“Elu will go with me.”

Tiphan jumped to his feet. “You will not leave!”

Up to this point, the centaur had been standing behind Mara, arms folded. As the argument progressed, however, Elu’s attention was drawn away. Mara and Tiphan went back and forth, angry and adamant for several minutes before realizing the centaur had gone.

“Now where did that savage run off to?” Tiphan snapped.

Mara pulled a burning brand from the fire and held it high. She got a glimpse of Elu’s russet-colored hindquarters moving away from them in the high grass.

“There,” she said, dropping the brand back into the fire and starting after him.

Tiphan caught her arm and spun her around rather abruptly. Mara slapped him hard across the face. It was hard to say which of them was more shocked by her action, but it was Tiphan who recovered first.

“Get hold of yourself, girl!” he said, shaking her hard. “I know Penzar died horribly. I was there! But there are greater matters at stake here. If Yala-tene is to grow and survive, we must gain the secret of the spirit power! Can’t you understand that?”

He was shouting at her now. Dazed, she turned her face away and said nothing.

“You’re a fool,” Tiphan said, letting her go. “I made your life too easy. You know nothing of sacrifice.”

The injustice of his words sent her anger soaring again. “I’ve served you loyally for more than half my life!” she exclaimed. “Penzar died in your service, and you care nothing for us! All you care about are your own selfish ends!”

Mara ran after the centaur. It was deeply dark on the savanna, with no moons yet risen and the stars veiled by layers of clouds. Tiphan muttered an oath, checked to make certain he was wearing his bronze knife, and set out after his wayward acolyte.

Mara followed the clear trail Elu had made, her heart still pounding from the argument. When the trampled grass suddenly ended with no sign of the centaur, she halted, puzzled and frightened.